eople
could or would persevere.'

'Oh! I am not properly tidy now,' said Elizabeth, opening a most
chaotic table-drawer, 'see, there is a proof of it. However, I do not
think I have been shamefully slovenly in my own person since that
explosion, and I have scarcely been spoken to about it. Who could
disregard such an appeal? But, Anne, are you not enchanted with sweet
Mrs. Hazleby?'

'I wish you would not ask me, Lizzie,' said Anne, feeling very prudent,
'you know that I know nothing of her.'

'No, and you never will know enough of her to say such savage things as
I do,' said Elizabeth, 'but at any rate you saw her when she came in.'

'Certainly.'

'I mean the kissing; I am sure I am glad enough to escape it, and
always think Mamma and the children seem to be hugged by a bear; but
you know making such distinctions is not the way to make us like her,
even if we were so disposed. Oh! and about me in particular, I am
convinced that she thinks that Mamma hates me as much as she does, for
she seems to think it will delight her to hear that I am thinner than
ever, and that such bright colour is a very bad sign, and then she
finishes off with a hypocritical sigh, and half whisper of "It can be
no wonder, poor thing!" trying to put everyone, especially Papa and
Uncle Edward, in mind of my own poor mother. I declare I have no
patience with her or Harriet, or that ugly little wretch of a dog!'

In the mean time, Katherine and Helen were visiting their guests,
Harriet and Lucy Hazleby, whom, contrary to Elizabeth's arrangement,
Mrs. Woodbourne had lodged in the room where her own two little girls
usually slept. Harriet was sitting at the table, at her ease, curling
her long cork-screw ringlets, with Fido at her feet; Lucy was unpacking
her wardrobe, Katherine lighting her, and admiring each article as it
was taken out, in spite of her former disapprobation of Harriet's style
of dress. Helen stood lingering by the door, with her hand on the
lock, still listening or talking, though not much interested, and
having already three times wished her guests good night. Their
conversation, though not worth recording for any sense or reflection
shewn by any of the talkers, may perhaps display their characters, and
add two or three facts to our story, which may be amusing to some few
of our readers.

'Oh! Lucy,' cried Harriet, with a start, 'take care of my spotted
muslin, it is caught on the lock of the box. You always are